As if there is a contradiction between the title and the scope of the book. Condensing a century-long chronicle of Hungarian history and cinematography into a thin volume is an impossible task. On the other hand, it would be important for those who only discovered his films in the last twenty-five years to get an idea of ​​the work of the director, who died on January 31, 2014. In our fast-paced age, this would also be hopeless with a bulky volume. What remains is the narrow path of the essay, which presents Miklós Jancsó as a great man. This is not a risk-free business either. In our critical age, in which politicians and celebrities are big (for a short time), the concept itself needs to be explained. It's not difficult at all. We have Thomas Mann (who, isn't he, a European among whites) to help us. In his novel Lotte in Weimar, he dared to put himself in the shoes of Goethe, an undoubtedly great man of his era, collected his important thoughts, and finally concluded: the great man is a spiritual radiation that can illuminate things, and creation is only a noble by-product, proving greatness, but that is not what makes a person great. A great man is made great by his life. To which Goethe makes a point: At best, people appreciate the work, nobody appreciates life. I tell you: Someone do it after me without breaking their neck!

All of this also applies to Miklós Jancsó. Long life and a large number of works, which the director always belittled, although this is also a natural part of genius, allowed him to renew himself when he wanted, and not when he was expected, depending on the era, by comrades or masters. The book may have managed to solve it, and the large bouquet of pictures showing Miklós Jancsó while he was creating helps in this, that life, age and works are presented in unity. And there is also that bit of irony, which I take from Thomas Mann again: The great man is a scourge on society. He has a hard time dealing with it.